One of the earliest known Biker Gangs is the Hells Angels who originated in America in 1948. Their name emerged from an admiration of our death-defying veterans, namely the Bomber B-17 Squadron from World War II. This aircraft remained nameless until after its 4th or 5th mission, whereby the crew adopted the names ‘Hell’s Angels’ after the WWI Fighter Squadron movie by Howard Hughes. It was the first 8th Air Force B-17 to complete 25 combat missions. The Hell’s Angels clearly dispute claims that its organisation originated from a group of deviant misfit veterans and is immensely angered that those who went above and beyond in their duties should be tainted in such a manner…

Biker gangs have an almost regimental hierarchy and their structure is aimed at being impenetrable. They are apparently dangerous organised criminal groups, I cannot comment on this but I do encourage you to consider any truly powerful organisation and then decide if corruption is indeed at their very core?

The Frank Admissions of Misti the Pole-Dancing Biker Chick!!!

Seems some people have rather an exciting image of me as a pole dancing crazed biker chick!!! Hmm, shall I drift with that or allow you into my world of gangs and motorcycle escapades??? Truth is, as far back as I can remember the sound of a motorbike roaring past has always sent my heart pounding, my head turning and my mind suddenly there upon that bike, my body refueling with exhilaration as I move with every bend in the road…

Needless to say my early intentions of being a biker were brushed aside and instead a driving instructor was duly hired. So I complied, past my test and bought a motorbike, to the great discontent of those around me. Sometimes a girl has got to do what turns her on…(Thought you might like that bit, well with those notions of pole-dancing!)

I mingled with biker gangs but refused to join. I guess there were some parts I didn’t like, wet t-shirt competitions for one. I have no doubt those participating enjoyed their moment of fame with their assets on show whilst resembling a survivor from the titanic but it wasnt for me. Nor was the way some of those big butch bikers man-handled me by throwing me over their shoulder and attempting to carry me off to their tent or throw me down atop a pool table!!! Maybe you are beginning to get the picture…

I suppose I may have some of you worried about how I fared against those big bikers? Well first off, I only entered those elite biker gangs by getting to know a main character, by the time I became familiar with a few of the ring-leaders I knew I was pretty safe. Oh and secondly really important point, don’t date any gang members though they will protect you and treat you with the respect you deserve so long as you don’t cross the line. Girlfriends are kind of like trophy possessions but never as important as a motorbike or the brotherhood.

I was intrigued by their macho image,devout loyalty to one another and aura of power and decided to do that wild and crazy Misti thing and break down those barriers to see what was at its great epicentre.

Luck would have it that days later, I would be cruising along coastal roads in the pouring rain, on my then Yamaha 440 when it emitted a few splutters and backfired before giving up the ghost completely. Though I am no mechanic I guessed it to be one of two things, a fuel problem - even a potential lack of it (with me being blonde of course) or the spark plugs. I’d barely removed my lid(helmet) when two other bikers pulled up alongside me. It’s an unwritten code of conduct with bikers that you stop and offer assistance to any stranded biker. Course with me being female and blonde I sometimes wonder whether they possess an inbuilt radar system or something. This time however on noticing their back patches I realised that it was my luck that was in. I had just landed myself two prime candidates from an infamous high-profile biker gang and boy was I going to work it! Sad blue eyes on full impact I played the innocent and let them go about checking the obvious mechanical failings of my bike whilst I regaled them with that famous Welsh wit. Twenty minutes later spark plugs had been dried out (with the use of a lighter that I just so happened to have on my person, though I don’t smoke) and we were, all three of us that is, on our way to the local pub to celebrate. Touche’ I had struck gold!

My acceptance by the gang was a long and slow process. Though happy to meet me away from the rest of the members they were reluctant to merge me into their as it would seem Secret Organisation…

Fear is such a powerful emotion! I could barely hear the roar of the engine above the pounding of my heart. Blindfolded and riding pillion on a motorbike was far from my ideal. Yet here I was risking all for an article revealing the secret truth of British Biker Gangs. There have been times when I have put myself in some absurdly dangerous situations but this was proving to be the most terrifying. With no-one to back me up and worse still nobody even knowing where I was, including me!

We finally pulled up and I was guided off the bike. My date for the night, we’ll call him Al, removed my lid and blindfold then briskly reminded me to stick close by his side and avoid eye contact or drawing attention to myself. For once this suited me, normally I am renowned for doing the complete opposite of what any guy might expect of me. Yet one hasty glance through my helmet flattened fringe revealed more huge tattooed and bearded bikers than I felt comfortable to be around. Suddenly I was conscious of my vacuum packed leather jeans and torn t-shirt, though admittedly more worrying were the knives, axes and even swords that were either close at their side of in their hands. If I was a religious sort I would have chosen that moment to start praying!

In complete contrast I was stunned to see that this was actually a family occasion with small children happily running about and their proud shiny headed biker Dads vigilantly keeping watch. Al, wrapped one of his cave-man arms around my waist and led me into the dark and intimidating clubhouse. I have to say that normally I would have inflicted pain on a man for such a presumptuous move but my god, this time with my knees shaking and my mind replaying all sorts of sick scenario’s, I could have actually kissed him…But I didn’t!

I tried desperately to focus on the rock band but couldn’t help my eyes straying to the weapon memorabilia on the walls. The bikers hardly seemed to enjoy themselves, their eyes edgy and most of them huddled in discreet conversations. Try as I might, with the rock music blasting away I wasnt getting any info. With courage gained from my delicious ice-cold lagers, I finally peeled myself off my chair and headed for the ladies. I figured a beating from one of the women would probably be a better option than a machete wielding madman anyhow…

I was quick to realise there was more to this place than just a clubhouse. Armed guards stood at a doorway which I believe led to a cellar. Relief has never been so welcoming, the ‘Ladies’ which of course its wasnt branded but instead a more degrading title, was empty. I locked the door, and instantly realised the absurdity of my situation. With axes, machetes, base-ball bats and gods knows what else out there, what protection was a tiny thumb lock going to offer me. They could open it from the outside with the use of god damn coin! Heels clattering against a tiled floor put paid to my isolation and I made a quick exit. Biker chicks, however, are not so adept at keeping shtum, and eagerly discussed the imminent threat of attack from a rival bike gang!

Al, ever the gentleman… with me anyway, had a drink ready and waiting and even credited me with a half-smile revealing his gold tooth! It was surreal to say the least. Partying the night away whilst under threat of attack…

The atmosphere was charged and Al and the brotherhood’s focus was on a lone guy sitting near the door. My mind was in a whirl, I had no idea what he had done but I knew he was for it! I had no way of stopping what was about to happen and I can tell you I have never felt so useless in my life. I watched as he rose, his eyes remaining averted to the guys and left the clubhouse. They followed, weapons in hand. I had to do something and begging them to stop seemed about as good an option as any. But a strong fingered clamp on my upper arm forced me back down into my seat. I was going nowhere.

Seemed like eternity before that door opened again and the gang re-emerged. Al sank a few more beers then revealed the lone biker was a new hanger-on at the club only they’d discovered he was actually from a rival gang. I don’t know what happened to him, when I went outside it was dark but there was nothing to indicate a fracas of any sort, and Al refused to discuss it anymore. I should say that yes drugs were in use at the clubhouse, and women who stepped out of line bore the brunt of a slap or a punch and that there were a group of highly attractive girls in short revealing dresses who were actually the property of the biker gang and whom apparently brought in quite a good revenue… Sadly I can’t quite say that this is different to any secret gentleman’s Club!

I continued to go on bike runs and the odd party for several weeks and earned myself some good stories from it, which incidentally were allowed with the bikers blessings. I was stunned as to how protected I was. They were one huge family and with each day I was enveloped further into it. Though some things were hard to bear, you had to understand there were rules, like thieves being taken up on stage and outed to an audience, before taking an unmerciful beating and being thrown, quite literally into a waiting ambulance. Sadly Al, bore the brunt of his lifestyle and one such rival gang attack claimed his life! I took this as my cue to move on, but one sure thing is that they treated me with respect, anyone who stepped out of line was put firmly back into it and yes they have their own rules and their own way of dealing with things but it works. They have respect, they have organisation and they have devout loyalty to one another and that simply adds up to the ‘Brotherhood’!

Oh and as for the pole-dancing… I never did get around to it! It’s not quite my style!